Strangers and Hugs

Last night, I hugged a homeless crack head on the sidewalk in Oakland late at night.

I had been drinking a tiny bit inside the bar with a couple of friends when I needed some fresh air (I lie. I was smoking. Wasted drunk and smoking to be very clear.), so I stepped outside and the bouncer followed me.

This homeless dude came up to me and asked if I could spare any money. I was like- all I have is this iPhone, this cigarette, and this lighter. But then I checked my pocket and had TWO DOLLARS! I passed it over to the man and wished him a good night.

The bouncer who was guarding me shook his head. He asked where I'm from. Obviously not a local, huh? I was being a bit too sweet to the crackhead homeless dudes for his taste.

To make his job of guarding me more difficult, another homeless crackhead came over and asked me for money. (Oakland is kind of ghetto in most areas, by the way) I told this new guy that I had just given ALL of my TWO DOLLARS away to the last guy. But then I said- you know what?

I'll give you a hug instead of money. Every homeless crackhead needs a hug, you know? So I shocked the living hell out of this fellow and hugged and told him I hope he gets better and that he finds a meal tonight. And he asked me if he could finish my cigarette. I handed it to him and went inside with Mr. Bouncer.

He came over to where I sat down with my friends and told me I need to be careful- that these guys have scabies. I didn't notice any scabies on my crackhead friend, but I did appreciate the bouncer's concern, so I asked him if I should go to the hospital. He didn't think I'd need to do that, but recommended that I don't hug any more of these guys.

It's not like I go around hugging ALL of the homeless crackheads in the Bay Area. I mostly just high five them. Duh.

Empty Wishes

I wish to have a filter that would force me to say NO to staying out all night to party until the sun comes up.

I wish to be more organized and remember deadlines and act on them accordingly.

I wish to be able to eat delicious Mexican food and pasta daily and have a slim, athletic figure without exercising.

I wish to dedicate time to doing laundry before I end up with only ridiculous looking outfits to wear.

I wish to have a job that pays well, is geographically desirable, and has incredibly generous benefits.

I wish to have my essays write themselves.

Learning from mistakes: I'm doing it rong.

SOME people make a mistake, feel stupid, and try not to repeat it. Me? I happily do the opposite. I've been reminiscing and telling stories about the stupid things I've done all weekend and it's just so- um- sad yet funny. I live a full life without worrying too much about where I'll end up. Consequences be damned.

I mean- my dating stories alone could fill 600 hilariously painful pages. I love laughing at myself.

I also love feeling the fiery passion and adrenaline that comes with jumping into major life decisions with both feet.

The feeling that I get when I'm on the verge of a possibly very fun but risky adventure... Haaaaaaa. Can't wait.

Fun game

I've been doing this for several days now.

Step 1: lose all of your phone data
Step 2: respond to text messages as if you know who is sending them
Step 3: guess who the person is and make plans to meet them- text only! No phone calls to see if you guessed right.
Step 4: show up at your meeting spot and see if you guessed right

someday, I'll need to re- enter my phone data.

Stoopid week

My week started off badly. Sunday night/Monday morning will go down in the history books of Tabbie for all time as one of the top 10 strangest experiences of my life.

Drinking turns some people into completely psychotic dick noses. I'm not going to go into details here because it's too much to put into writing. Maybe someday when we're sharing our 3rd bottle of champagne (or cap classique) of the night, I'll tell you the story. By then, it will be light-hearted and I'll toss in all of the things that make me giggle about it. I'll leave out the parts where I was afraid for my safety and the part where I thought a friend of mine was for sure about to produce a monstrous amount of puke and/or get arrested in Nevada.

After that night, my week got worse. The drunky drunk friend let some information slip that shouldn't have gotten out. Another friend of mine got her feelings hurt. I hate to see my friends hurting.

HATE it.

But there was really not much I could do about this. So I just sent out a warning signal to the other people involved in the mess that there was, in fact, a mess. And I backed off.

Now, I'm not sure where to turn next. It's like my ability to process friendship information is broken. I love every one of the people involved in this icky mess, but they don't love each other.

People I love are being mean to each other. I HATE this.

Also, there's no goddamned clock on this computer screen. It's some kind of bullshit when I can't even use a computer screen to tell the goddammned time. Fuck you, screen.

Wait. It's not the screen's fault that I'm pissed. Still, I hate this stoopid, worthless screen.

Get Fucked

The above is the #1 most used phrase of the weekend. I don't think I've ever said it out loud, but I heard it mucho much from Friday to this morning.

We were in Vegas for my friend Jen's bachelorette party. "We" being my roommates and my Aussie friend. Jen had something like 10 ladies there from all of the different times in her life. Her sister hosted the weekend's events and we toasted and drank and toasted and drank...

I met Jen in high school. We were sophomores and she was already hanging out with all the college kids from the town just next to ours. We hit it off instantly and one of my first memories with her was being at a keg party and being driven home by one of her friends. Jen and I both ended up hanging our heads out the window to puke on the ride home. Gross.

Just a couple of years ago, Jen and I were on a pub crawl together. We were walking back to her place from the last bar we could reasonably stay awake at and she fell down in an alley. There was a garage full of guys watching football that opened to the alley and they all saw this happen. She was super worried about them all seeing her fall down, so she pulled me down on top of her when I went to help her up.

As I was screaming and giggling and trying to get up, she explained to me that she wanted them to think we were just rolling on the ground, making out. That she was totally down there on purpose. Oh... Jen.

So I guess we're used to being trashed wasted drunky tanked around each other. Which is why she handled me falling off a table at the dance club on Saturday night like it was no big deal. I mean, I didn't just fall one time at the club either. It was just once off a table. The next night, she wouldn't allow me to even say I fell. She insists she caught me every time. That I couldn't possibly have fallen with her there to catch me.

She's such a fun friend. I love the ones who are just going to be in my life forever and understand what I need to hear in order to feel okay about acting like a total jackass.

Bet it all!!!

My mom insists on everyone yelling "BET IT ALL!!!" while watching the TV show Jeopardy in her home and someone gets a daily double. I yelled it out at a Mexican restaurant the other day while my roommate and I were picking up dinner.

She sneered at me and said "We're not at your mother's house."

I don't care. It's something that is so ingrained in my psyche that it would literally hurt to fight it.

Tonight, my two roomies were on the couch, watching high quality reality TV programming and eating Carl's Junior takeout. I walked in to the living room to say something really witty and let them admire my beauty for a minute, but was interrupted by the male of the pair. He was mumbling something with a full mouth of burger. Just the way I like him. Wait...

Anyway, my female roomie grabs her dog (apparently, she understands burger mumble) and holds her down. The dog. Just making sure that was clear.

And I go- what's that about? She says- he doesn't like the dog to watch him eat.

.....

Weird, right?

.....

I mean... really? The dog totally hangs out with him all the time, but- HEY! No watching me chew!!!

So my female roomie says something about him being a freak and I stepped in to his defense. Something about "there are weird things that bother me too". But I was silently laughing at him. Really... the dog can't watch you eat?

We were talking outside a little later - mostly me laughing openly at him - and we pinpointed this eating behavior to his mom's strange eating habits. She'll eat like 3 things in the entire food chain. Sliced tomatoes, plain lettuce, and white wonder bread. Maybe hold the bread. So that's PROBABLY where his "issues" stem from.

Moms make us say and do crazy things.

What do you do that comes from your raisin'?